


The Insufferable Suffering Behind Secret Santa

by zjass06



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gay Disaster Will Solace, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Secret Santa, i wrote this like last year, pining will solace, trust me he’s got it so bad, will’s life lowkey sucks but it’s okay because Nico exists yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjass06/pseuds/zjass06
Summary: Will draws Nico for Secret Santa.No, he does not know what to buy for his secret love of his life.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 8
Kudos: 96





	The Insufferable Suffering Behind Secret Santa

Will supposes that Secret Santa is perhaps just a little outdated Christmas tradition usually meant for kids, so he's not entirely sure why their boss was so insistent about hosting it. Maybe it's because he wants to make it seem like he cares — which everyone knows he does not — or rather to succumb everyone into an illusion of Christmas spirit to ease away the fact that they'll still be working stupid hours during their supposed ' _break_ '.

Regardless, Will needs the pay check so he's compliant enough and is about as enthusiastic as a rock. He sticks his hand into the cheap Santa hat, not ruffling around the paper slips at all and just plucks out the one sitting comfortably at the top. Dionysus beams at him as though he just won the raffle for millions of dollars, and Will barely returns a forced smile before he turns back to his own monitor to get done with this shitty spreadsheet he’s been procrastinating all day now.

Everyone in the office is a grown adult with a miserable day job, so it's no surprise that Will's lack of Christmas Cheer™ is unanimous amongst all his coworkers. Absentmindedly, Will regards the fact that someone's drawn out his name and that they are still as bored as ever. He frowns a little at the thought but decides he can’t blame them while he unravels his own slip.

He didn't really expect anything exciting coming out of this whole exchange. It's just a little something from a person that is forced to buy a gift for you. But then the name scribbled on the paper reveals itself and Will's eyes grow as wide as saucers.

 _Nico di Angelo_ it has the audacity to say, in Dionysus’s roughly scrawled handwriting.

It's so utterly stupid, the fact that Will's heart does a somersault or twenty.

He can't have drawn Nico. He can't buy him a gift. There is quite literally no gift worthy in the world to give to Nico di Angelo — and yet there the paper lies within the very palm of his hand, prompting him to go ahead and pick out an anonymous present for the guy he's been practically in love with for months.

With an unnecessary amount of stealth, Will eyes peek above his monitor to catch Nico di Angelo by the printer, long fingers drumming against it as he waits for the endless pages to copy. It's not really fair that he manages to look so good yet so done with life at the same time, with dark circles under his eyes and hair lousily tugged into a scruffy ponytail. The office regulated clothes aren't even that flattering of a fit, and Nico's shirt is crinkled and stained with coffee on the sleeve but still Will finds that he's forcing himself to take his eyes off him.

The blond swears that he's going to get his revenge on his boss one day, but until that he's stuck with having to come up with a present for his heartthrob within the week.

* * *

It's not easy.

It's not easy whatsoever. And it’s pretty sad that buying a decent gift for the perfect guy within a $15 budget is simultaneously the most stressful, yet the most monumental occasion of his year.

At home, within his apartment on the fifth floor of a dreary building, Amazon's homepage glares back at him — mocking him for the past two hours. He can practically hear Alexa’s disapproving tone through the screen, and Will wonders at what moment did his life get so tragic that even A.I. mocks him.

And then his laptop dies on him, unsurprisingly. A small mercy, maybe, or a nice 0% battery life to match his 0% progress. Whatever the gods were going for, Will groans out his frustrations regardless.

He states up at his ceiling hoping it will provide him with all his answers, but only brings him to the realisation that despite his overly withdrawn crush on the guy, he barely even knows him. He's talked to him maybe, what, four times? And that's just awkward small talk by the water dispenser where Will can barely get more than one or two words out of Nico. It should've been more than enough to make him back away — with Nico's naturally unsociable behaviour and highly stacked walls — but for some reason Will just found it a hell of a lot more endearing.

Still, a functional conversation wouldn’t of _hurt_... In it's very least, he’ll have the tiniest of indication of what the guy’s interested in. Maybe then picking a present wouldn’t be so fucking difficult.

But, given his misery, that's not the case, and Will ends up falling asleep with the thought of Nico's disappointment and burning hatred festering in his mind.

* * *

 _Yes_ , he's got a plan.

 _No_ , it is not a good one.

But making rash and stupid decisions has never stopped him before, so Will doesn't really see why he should stop now. 

Will spends hours in this office on a daily basis, and with the same old repetitive work he's given it's somewhat understandable that his eyes are naturally drawn to other more _interesting_ and _aesthetically pleasing_ things like, per say, the perfection that is Nico di Angelo. It's with these, _ah_ , observations that he just so happens to know his very-nice-to-look-at coworker’s timetable like the back of his hand. More specifically, he knows that at 12:15 on the dot, he goes downstairs for his lunch break to grab a sandwich — chicken mayo, don't ask how he knows he just _does_ , okay? — and it's usually around about half past until he comes back through that elevator.

So as soon as 12:16 hits, Nico's gone and leaves his desktop unoccupied. Will makes his move with the mission impossible tune like a mantra in his head.

Acting as naturally as possible — which for him is as stiff as a board — he slips into Nico’s blessed chair and grabs the mouse, jumping right to work.

The computers around here aren't password protected. There's not really much need for them, given that literally no one who works here would ever want to hack into someone's account to steal information on the latest client rundowns they've been typing up, or snoop through those pushy customer emails demanding that they get their money back.

There is literally nothing interesting to find, and Will knows this.What Will doesn't know, however, is why he ends up trying to hack into Nico's computer anyway — but in the very least he hopes that it'll give him some sort of epiphany level inspiration.

Hurriedly, Will skims through the documents he's left open and takes careful precautions in order to not accidentally close the windows. He opens up Chrome and bites his lip as it takes an infuriatingly long time to load, cursing the shitty WiFi in this shitty building for the millionth time now.

When the page finally pops up, he allows himself a swift sigh of relief as he opens the web history. Instantly, relevant pages make themselves known and Will feels like he's struck gold, that this is the first stroke of luck he's had in literal _years—_

"—Uh, Will. It's Will, right? What are you doing at my desk?"

The blond sees his life flash before his eyes as he almost goes into cardiac arrest.

Slow and shamefully, Will turns his head with the cracking pieces of a forced neutral expression short circuiting across his face. He tries not to weep then and there, as he takes in Nico di Angelo standing right behind him, eyebrows furrowed and a mere cup of coffee held in his hand.

"I was just... checking over some stuff...” Will manages say without his voice cracking, "Just gotta crunch some numbers, you know?”

Nico's expression hasn't shifted once, which isn't in the slightest bit reassuring. "Why are you on my search history?"

"Oh, your computer was really, really slow,” he finds himself saying, pulse running a mile per minute, "Like really, _really_ slow, man. So I, erm— I thought I'd clear out the history to make it run a little smoother. I guess I probably should've asked you first, huh?"

"Probably."

Will's blood runs cold but still claps sharply before launching himself off the chair, "Well I got what I need!" and _there's_ that stupid nervous voice crack. "Have a good rest of the day!"

He means it. Really, he does. Will hopes that Nico enjoys the rest of his day, and also hopes that he himself can find a nice, tall window on the top floor that he can take a nice stroll out of.

* * *

The thing is, despite that suicide of a mission, Will had actually managed to get some useful information out of it.

More specifically, he had managed to extract _exactly_ what Nico wanted for Christmas this year.

It was during those few miraculous seconds that Will's eyes laid on the proof basically written in black and white before him. That same jacket taunting his search history, different sites for the very same item.

But this is Will’s life, and it simply wouldn’t be his life if he was _actually_ fortunate — gods forbid. So, _of course_ he knows that this whole extravaganza is simply too good to be true.

It’s pretty god damn depressing.

Especially when that leather jacket costs around one hundred and forty-nine dollars.

(Not including delivery.)

Admittedly, it's a pretty significant stretch from the $15 maximum. It's not even like Will could even totally afford it without cutting into his own personal savings.

So, begrudgingly, Will sighs as he exits the tab and tells himself there's no way he's going to buy a designer jacket for a guy that he barely even knows.

* * *

Will buys the jacket. Partly because he’s lovesick. Mostly because he's an idiot. Acting impulsively like a lovesick idiot does.

And it's with dread and endless regret that he stares at the neatly wrapped jacket hidden underneath the unimpressive pile of all the Secret Santa gifts. The damned present with the dumb snowman wrapping paper that soon Nico will tear that apart to reveal the shame that lies within.

He'll be creeped out. That's for sure. Maybe he'll think he's got some sort of crazy, stalker sugar daddy in the office and he might have to get a restraining order on Will. Maybe he'll turn to Will and say it's ugly, flush his heart and $150 straight down the drain while he's at it. Maybe he'll—

 _Shut up,_ he tells himself, _it's anonymous._ Which honestly is the only thing that enables him to hang onto that thread of human normalcy.

All the gifts are stacked negligently on top of one another from where they've been piling up since the last couple of days, sitting underneath a budget, 4ft Christmas tree with fake spindly needles and LED's that flicker a horrid magenta. It's pretty evident that no one has put a lot of thought or effort into this whole ordeal whatsoever, which, usually is fine, but considering Will's stupid, _stupid_ decision of a present, he kids himself for trying too hard.

It takes several minutes of nail-biting and knee-bouncing and heart-pounding and pen-chewing anxiety until the exchange actually begins, and people from the department start to beeline their way to the 'tree' to pick out the parcel addressed with their name. It's only then that Will dumbly realises that one of the gifts in the shitty pile it his, so it's with a quick breather that he makes his way up there too, taking away a box decorated with ' _Happy Birthday!_ ' wrapping paper.

It's a box of chocolates, and Will's got no complaints whatsoever. Better something edible than a pair of socks or a cheaply flung together snow globe, so he smiles and announces a quick thanks to the office for whoever his gift giver was.

Shamelessly, he opens them up back at his desk and pops one into his mouth, finding it delectably good — which he really should've guessed considering that they were probably around ten bucks, and the font on the packaging is so fancy that he can't even read it.

During those few seconds of velvety, chocolatey bliss, Will forgets about all the paranoia that been mounting up on him from the week.

Which only makes the blow twice as hard when the elevator dings and reveals Nico, late as always, with the same scruffy hair and—

— _wearing that fucking leather jacket._

Will _gapes_. Literally gapes to the point that his jaw is hanging so wide that it's practically touching the floor. Entirely for two reasons and for two reasons only:

 **1** \- That jacket fits him so right and hugs Nico in all the perfect places.

 **2** \- Will’s fucked up so bad to the point that Christmas is cancelled, because never has he ever been this damn unfortunate.

It's devastating in both the best and worst ways, and suddenly Will's blood pressure shoots so high that he thinks he might be going a little delirious.

It doesn't help that the first thing Nico does after dumping his bag on his desk and peeling the sinful leather off his body is head straight for the last present — _Will's_ present — and tears it open without preamble.

Once the atrocity reveals itself, Will almost whimpers as Nico gawks, eyebrows basically shooting higher than his hairline. On any other day, the expression would've been comical — _cute_ , even — since it's such a difference to the usual, deep set scowl he keeps on day in day out. However, now, right at this _very fucking moment_ , it's agonising to see. 

Cautiously, Nico lifts the material in his hands, unravelling it as though it's not real. His pretty lips areslightly parted in uttermost confusion, and he scrutinises it with eagle eyes — and stupidly Will thinks that he'd be able to perhaps detect his fingerprints on it, almost as though he can instantly find out that he himself is the guilty one.

Will tells himself to calm down because it's _impossible_. There's no way Nico would be able to tell. It's completely anonymous and Will just has to suffer through the degradation on his own.

However, Nico di Angelo's deep brown eyes suddenly catch with his and— _fuck_ , he knows.

There's a prayer Will doesn't realise he's reciting in his head: _dear gods, if you have any mercy suck me into the ground so I can never show my face again._ But then Nico storms over, looking undoubtedly pissed and Will finds himself crumbling from the inside out.

"Why did you buy me this?" he demands immediately.

“What do you mean?” Will musters in reply, voice awfully high pitched and cracking. “I’ve never seen that in my life, I don’t even know what it is.”

"It says your name on the tag."

Will supposes that he's at least lived close enough to a good life.

" _Will_." Nico prompts.

Maybe if he dies now, it won't be all that bad.

"Will!"

"I'm sorry, okay!" the blond blurts, rather disastrously, "I picked out your name but I had _no_ idea what to buy and I saw this on your computer and I just _bought_ it for you but I completely understand if you wanna just— I don’t know, burn it to fucking cinders cause it's utterly of place — I _know_ — and you already have the very same jacket and I'm just _really_ sorry I—“

“Wait,” Nico cuts him off, frowning. "...What the hell are you sorry?"

"I— _you_..." then his mind goes blank.

"You spent over a hundred dollars on me and you're apologising?" Will turns sheepish at that. "I just want to know why."

"I didn't know what to get you."

"And usually people resort to chocolate boxes."

Will feels like he's got his back pressed up against the wall with no way of escape besides from actually tackling head on.

With a half-defeated sigh, the blond runs a hand through his unruly hair, smiling out of sheer embarrassment — no doubt looking like a lunatic.

"It's just...” he begins, dejectedly. “I just kinda like you. And... I didn't want to get you anything lame."

It's evident that it's certainly not the answer Nico was expecting, and Will winces at the look of startle washing over his features. It's not even like Will's been exactly subtle about his crush either.

Nico shakes his head a little, which causes a darkstand of hair to gracefully fall from his ponytail. Despite the situation, Will fights the urge to tuck it behind his ear. “Why didn't you just _tell_ me?"

Will chokes. “I didn't— I didn’t know _how_.”

"Why not? Am I really that unapproachable?" Nico asks, and if pains Will that it’s spoken with genuine wonder.

Instinctively, Will denies it, instead explains his shyness. Nico, unsurprisingly, looks as disbelieving as ever.

"So you've liked me, all this time?"

Will palms the back of his neck. “Pretty much."

Blinking, twice, Nico stands a little straighter as if processing what to do with this information. He settles on setting the newly bought jacket down on Will's desk, and the scent of leather is like a cold, sharp reminder of his complete failure.

"I think it's best if you return it," he murmurs and Will can't deny that it's disheartening.

"There's no point, I get that you don't want it. You might as well give it to some hobo outside."

Nico shakes his head again, a lot more certainly than before.

"No." Nico says and if Will's eyes aren't deceiving him he's _grinning_ , "You're going to return it and with the money you get back you're going to take me out for dinner to make up for the late gift. Then after dinner, I think you ought to kiss me."

Will's head shoots up. He’s pretty sure he’s slipped into a daydream. "What?"

"I'm free on Friday night," he announces, smiling, and then saunters away to get to his own work while Will sits there, frozen, and trying to mentally process what exactly just happened.

Eventually, he comes to the conclusion that maybe, _just maybe_ , Secret Santa isn’t that bad after all.


End file.
